When The Clock Strikes Twelve
by Fenrir Vanagandr
Summary: As I promised, the game is coming to a quick and bloody end my darling. When the clock strikes twelve, our little game is over...and so are you. AU/OOC


**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or The Southern Vampire Mysteries series, any and all rights belong to the wonderful Charlene Harris.**

* * *

_Keeping on the outside  
Glimmer in the moonlight  
Only shadows go where we are  
Creeping on the edge of the dark_

_We feel warmth in the cold corners_  
_Eyes in the back of our heads_  
_We roll out when the day's over_  
_Chasing silhouettes_

_When it all goes UP IN FLAMES_  
_When it all goes UP IN FLAMES_  
_When it all goes UP IN FLAMES_  
_When it all goes UP IN FLAMES_  
_We'll be the last ones standing_  
_We'll be the last ones_  
_We'll be the last ones standing_

_City made of thing glass_  
_Smoldering in pitch black_  
_Sand so thick you can't see the stars_  
_Can't tell good and evil apart_

_We feel warmth in the cold corners_  
_Eyes in the back of our heads_  
_We roll out when the day's over_  
_Chasing silhouettes_

"_Up in Flames" - Ruelle_

* * *

She was shaking.

Her whole body trembled under the cold spray released from the shower head. She had the idea in her head that perhaps the cool rinsing would leave her body frozen enough so as to allow her hand to co-operate with what she needed to follow through with.

Strawberry scented shampoo was poured into her hand from a pink container. Due to the fragile control on her nerves, the bottle slipped and thudded against the porcelain of the shower floor, spilling into a scarlet puddle around her feet.

In the dim light of the room, the shower stall looked like it was bathed in thick, viscous blood.

Sobs echoed throughout the cavernous bathroom. "Please," she begged to a god she had no belief in. "Please…"

Fear was potent, filling the space where the steam from a normal warm shower should have been. Useless prayers continued to sound from the frightened blonde woman stood in the shower; emitting nothing more than fear filled whispers and pitiless gasps.

"Please, I'll do _anything…"_

Slowly, the running water was shut off with a tight squeak and the floral curtain pulled back to reveal the bare young woman. Her hands remained quivering as she reached for her towel and gently wrapped it around her frail body. The blonde waves of her hair dripped liquid drops around her shoulders, down her back and onto the tiled floor.

An oval mirror hung on the wall above the counter, reflecting the image of the terrified face. Wide, cobalt eyes rested upon sharp cheekbones that led to a pair of pale pink lips, and dipped into a delicate chin. Everything about the features was in perfect proportion; panic being the only thing marring her beauty.

"Why?" she whispered, staring blankly at herself. "Why me?"

Deciding the answer was nowhere to be found, she carefully walked into her bedroom, directly connected to the bathroom. This too, was considerably large.

A vanity sat against the wall opposite of an open bay window. Before sitting down, the girl noticed the laughter of the children outside and ventured a look out to the street below. Children ran around in their costumes through the eleventh hour of night, holding bags full of candy and other rubbish.

Ghosts, goblins, and vampires were no longer the fashion trend of October 31st; nowadays it was more along the lines of superheroes or devils that showed too much skin for most peoples tastes.

"Surely they'd be home now…" she muttered. Though she wasn't mad; not really. The noises from the outside world gave her the comfort that she wasn't completely alone.

Not yet.

Her dim cobalt eyes closed as she remembered the note she received in the mail last night.

_Check in your closet. Put it on, tomorrow and I will meet you at midnight. As I promised, the game is coming to a quick bloody end, my darling. Be prepared._

_\- Player One_

A strangled sigh escaped her lips. She had a vulgar idea of how the game would end. No, it wasn't and 'idea.' She was _certain_ that her parents would be picking a headstone for her tomorrow morning.

Tears splashed onto the cotton outfit of the towel. Too much…this was too much stress and pressure…

Quickly, she slammed the window shut and locked it, then pulled the lace curtains shut. Another idea came to her mind, and she ran to the bathroom to conceal the small window in there as well.

Breathing heavily, she numbly sat on the cushion of the vanity's seat and peered at her natural appearance. Make-up was organised on one side of the dresser table for her to select from. Applying foundation, blush, and deep eye graffiti, the girl continued her procedure with the drying and fixing of her blonde hair; now in loose waves.

Crossing the white-carpeted room, she opened her closet door and walked in; hanging in plain view was a deep purple, Victorian-styled gown. Her gaze trained on the outfit for three, slow moments. Cautiously, her shaking fingers pulled the dress off its hanger and gracefully stepped into it, dropping her towel as she went. She gazed at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door.

The shoulders of the gown were wide, exposing her protruding collar bones and delicate neck, and led into a pair of quarter-length sleeves, ending in black lace. The torso was a collection of crisscrossing black ribbons, complementing the rest of the lace. A series of small ruffles formed around her hips, trailing into a skirt plenty big enough for five small children to walk under. The skirt had two layers; a top, dark violet silk setting atop more delicate black lace.

The girl admired the beauty of the gown before the sense of fear crept up her throat again.

_What's going on? _she wondered with still dread.

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a pair of transparent glass heels, sitting right underneath where the dress had hung. Assuming it went with the outfit, the girl, with immense difficulty, decorated her feet with the slippers.

_I didn't realise I closed the door, _she thought as she reached for the closet door's knob. Before she could turn the handle, her cobalt eyes flickered toward a ripped piece of paper taped to the mirror in front of her.

Gasping, she tore the paper off, dread colouring her face as she read:

_Open the door, my darling. Open the door and I'll be waiting for you, my lovely princess._

_\- Player One_

Panic took control over her mind. Sobs wracked her frame; producing tears were all the girl could muster. Black tracks ran down her cheeks and fell onto her silk dress.

How did he get in? (Assuming it was a he, based on the notes that were left). She had locked the windows! Even so, how had she not heard him enter? Her hand flew up to her mouth. _He had been right behind me, only moments ago…right behind me…to tape this note…_

One more desperate attempt failed as she looked skywards, hands folding tightly together. "Please…" she rasped; her voice cracking. "Please…"

Drawing in a trembling breath through her quivering lips, the girl turned the handle.

She opened the door.

She took a step out.

And another.

Her eyes were blinded by a forceful darkness, and she could feel someone's eyes rest upon her form. Her heart was pounding through her chest, its sound resonating in her ears; surely the neighbours could hear the vigorous thumping.

"It is twelve o'clock, my darling. Time's up."

* * *

_When the clock strikes twelve, our little game is over…and so are you._

* * *

**AN: There we have it, to those of you who read His Seven Deadly Sins. The one-shot I promised you. I must admit I am quite pleased with how it's turned out. Although this is a one-shot, the ending leave room for plenty more chapters, but those are open to your interpretation. **


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